


Year Two

by ohohpierre



Series: the devil's got nothing on me, my friend. [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, F/M, Gryffindor Draco, Harry and Draco are still in need of hugs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lucius Malfoy is still an asshole 2.0, M/M, Slow Burn, Timeline Shifts, some elements of the original story changed removed or edited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-04-26 08:31:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14398254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohohpierre/pseuds/ohohpierre
Summary: Draco's been sorted into Gryffindor. The golden trio has turned into the golden quartet. A retelling of Harry Potter with one major detail changed.Year Two opens new doors for the four, and they either have to accept the changes that occur, and remain stuck.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I've promised to stick with this, and so here's to another beginning, my friends!

The one thing that Draco could be certain of was that Harry was a _bastard_. 

Well, maybe the word was too harsh, but Draco didn’t care. He had _promised_ to write. After everything the four of them had gone through the previous year, and he goes completely silent. He allowed himself to be angry. He had gone far too long shoving his own emotions aside.

Note after note being left unanswered, and unsure of what he had done to deserve it all, Draco stopped writing after three weeks. What was the point of any of it? What was the point of all they had gone through? What was the point of them talking? What was the _point_?

He knew he was being illogical, but it is well known that when upset, the brain tends to push aside all rational thinking. And Draco found himself in a slump. No correspondence from someone he considered his best friend. He sighed and pushed the heel of his hand against his eyes like a child on the verge of a tantrum.

He was lucky for Hermione and Ron, Hermione particularly as she tended to brief him on all of the reading she was going over break – “I’ve picked quite a large tome, War and Peace, and you will be pleased to see that come this fall, I will have read it all, I’m sure.” – Ron often turning the conversation to Quidditch and whatever his older brothers were getting themselves into – “Charlie’s gone back to Romania, says a creature is there ‘awaiting his adventurous mind and carefree soul.’ Sometimes, I think he’s more dragon than wizard, and you can tell him I said that. He’d be thrilled.” Draco was grateful for them both.

It was not until he received letters from the two of them asking whether or no Harry had written to him, and he angrily responded that he had not. His angered lessened somewhat when he came to realize that he had not written to either of them as well, and instead is anger was replaced with the anxiety he had grown accustomed to feeling, now a state he was quite familiar with them. His replied to them went unanswered as well.

 

And this is where he found himself, sitting inside while the August heat burned away outside, wallowing. Oh, what would his father think?

Oh, what would his father _say_? The answer being “nothing,” for his father had not spoken to him directly since the night he had arrived for summer vacation. Draco was not as bothered by it all as he once thought he would have been. He couldn’t help, actually, finding it somewhat amusing. He’d rendered his father mute. He should feel grateful for it.

Nights spent at the rather long dining table, his father seated at the head with his mother to his right and Draco to his left in some misplaced attempt at a noble setting, were awkward, the only sounds being the slight clattering of utensils and his mother’s occasional comments in his direction. He would smile politely, answer concisely, and return to his meal. There was no room for disobedience at the table, his father would not allow it. And if Draco did not respect the man, he still feared him, and he left him feeling defeated. When finished, he would dismiss Draco with a quick and cold wave of his hand, and he would rise from the table and venture off to the library.

Draco longed for nothing more than to be back home at Hogwarts. The realization when he first considered Hogwarts his home felt like slap in the face, but the sting of it was not entirely unpleasant. Hogwarts was his home, and he yearned for its comforts.

He found himself in the library again, several weeks off from returning to Hogwarts, when the first owl he’s seen in months come crashing through the threshold of the manor. The _menace_. It was Narcissa, however, who came to collect the note that was wound hastily around the bird’s foot. Her expression dropped to a scowl at the handwriting as Draco came to stand by her side. Two words printed neatly: “Molly Wealsey.” Draco glanced around nervous but nodded.

“Open it,” he said quietly, and she carefully tore open the letter with a “hrmpf.”

 “Weasley’s asked you over, much to the dismay of Arthur and Molly,” she muttered, a sneer clear in her voice. Draco smiles despite himself. “He asks if…Potter has written at all,” she continues before she places a hand on her son’s shoulder.

“Wipe off that smirk, we – I cannot allow you to go,” and Draco shakes out of her grasp. “It would not be wise.” Draco huffed, but Narcissa ignored him, commanding the nearest house elf to find her paper and a quill. “I’ll write fast.” Draco turned on his heel, and sulked away, his mother calling out behind her, “Best not to tell Father about this.”

He watches as his mother all but chucks the original note into the hearth before sending the Weasley on its way back home, a new note attached to its claw.

* * *

 One week passes. The Weasleys are oddly silent, and Draco fills his days soaking up the books in the library. He’s particularly interested in the history books his father keeps, but he aches for Hermione’s classics.

Another week passes. Summer vacation is fast coming to a close, and Draco has quietly started packing for his departure. As much as he dreads it, he knows his father will be taking him to the platform for appearance sake, his mother following close behind keeping others away. He wonders what his father will say, and what he will say in response. He can only hope it will be something clever. He tucks away more clothing and slips a book about banshees into the bottom of his trunk.

Yet another week. August shifts into September, but the weather stays the same. The sticky humid air outside is enough to keep Draco indoors. His father keeps away, and for the first time, Draco wonders what he is doing with his free time. His mother is often wandering the house, tending to the garden, sipping tea in the kitchen, but his father hardly leaves his study. Every so often, he sees a house elf slip inside, never for too long, and leaving paler then when they entered. He catches glimpses of his father’s dark cloak turning the corners, acting as much the spectral of death in his own house.

Despite his best efforts, Draco finds himself nostalgic during his final week. With no recent news from any of his friends, he feels like a scared eleven-year-old once more, lonely and silent. He is no longer as obedient as he was once, and he gets a sick sense of satisfaction at seeing his father turn away from him in the brief moments they come together. Nevertheless, he’s anxious. He’s ready to go.

* * *

The following morning, Draco and his mother make their way out of the manor quietly, leaving his father behind as they so often do now. Hogwarts list in hand, the two of them travel silently through Diagon Alley.

“You’ve already an owl, a wand, we mustn’t go there once more,” his mother mutters soundlessly to herself, her eyes roving over the letter in her hands. 

Draco keeps his eyes forward and is not oblivious to the looks that are every now and then tossed in his directions. He stands tall, the apprehension creeping back into his mind. It would not take much for a group to ambush the two delicate Malfoys as they stand alone. He’s determined not to let anything show through his body language. He stands closer to his mother.

“It’s quite a book list this year,” he says, pointing to the titles at the bottom of the page, “Perhaps Flourish and- “He cuts himself off as a voice rings out. 

“Ah Harry! We were hoping you’d only gone one grate too far!” Draco freezes or a moment, his mother looking at him quizzically, and he knows he’s smiling like an idiot, and he speeds up.

“Draco?” he mother asks, but she follows behind nonetheless, and soon they are standing near the front windows of the popular shop. His mother looks around disdainfully. “Quite a lot of people hear this morning…” She stops in front of the shop marquee. “Oh Merlin.” _“Now featuring: Gildroy Lockhart”_ is written on the board in a neat cursive handwriting, and Draco steps inside, pressing past the mass of people who have not walked in further than the threshold. He hears familiar voices.

“It was him, I swear. Same colored hair. Mean-looking. Was trying to sell something.” Harry. “Draco wasn’t with him thought. I wonder…” Draco found himself freezing once more, feeling his eyebrows raise involuntarily. Father? There would be time late. He’s make sure to ask. Right now, he just had to get a little further…

“Draco!” The voice is neither his mother’s, nor Harry’s. Draco turns to see an enthusiastic Hermione running towards him, launching herself into his arms, oblivious to the thoughts swirling about in his head. Draco grips onto her for a moment, a giddy look on his face that he does not bother hiding. “I didn’t see you come in!” She cuts herself off with a quick glance behind Draco, and he turns to see his father walking into the shop. “Guess Harry didn’t misunderstand.” He turns, and drags her forward by her elbow.

“Ignore him,” he says, his voice thankfully masked by the other shoppers desperate to get a look at the fair haired handsome man surrounded by stacks and stacks of books. Hermione nods, always understanding, and it’s her turn to drag him off to the side.

“Harry, Ron!” she says excitedly, the two turning around in confusion before grins break out onto their faces. A younger girl stood to the left of Ron, her bright hair giving her away.

“ _Draco_ ,” Harry says easily, and Draco is immediately taken aback by several things at once. Hey boy is front of him stands much taller than before, his clothes the same from the previous year. Second, he’s filthy. He makes another note to ask later. Third, Harry’s voice had dropped, the scratchiness of it leaving Draco flushed. Harry holds out a hand, and without glancing behind, Draco pulls him into a hug. He holds on for a moment longer than he should.

“You’re taller than me now,” he teases, and messes with his already rustled hair. He clasps a hand on Ron’s shoulder, a “hello, mate” already in the air. “Positively lanky.” Harry’s face turns pink, and Draco ducks his head. What was he doing? Harry opens his mouth to say something but closes it. Draco glances behind him, and sees his father looking over the crowd. Looking for him.

“I saw him earlier,” Harry begins but Draco shakes his head.

“Later, please,” he asks, a slight shake to his voice that Harry was always able to pick up on immediately. Harry nods, and smiles at him.

“I’m happy to see you.” Draco scratches at the back of his head, the corners of his lips raised, heat on his cheeks. Any bitter thoughts, any anger at Harry’s unresponsiveness dissipated.

“I’m happy too.” He feels awkward for a moment, unable to stop hiding his face behind his hands. He wanted to say something else, anything else. He hadn’t see the boy in months, and all he could say was _“I’m happy too?”_ He went to open his mouth, but a voice at the back of the shop spoke over everyone else.

“Gilderoy Lockhart!”

Draco suppressed a groan and walked to the store front with an eye roll, Hermione, Ron and Harry following, Ginny trailing close to Ron. “You could not pay me anything to stand there and listen to that man speak.” Hermione shifted uncomfortably.

“I don’t know,” she said shyly, looking back at him, “He’s rather handsome, don’t you think?” Draco couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Mother?” The crowded store continued to drown out his voice in the sea of people, and it was difficult to see over.

“Draco.” _Father_. Wonderful. He felt tension raise around him and the trio, but he continued forward. “Your mother and I have been waiting for you.” Draco stood up straighter. _Soldier_.

“I was catching up with my friends.” His father took a deep breath.

“I see,” he sneered, his gaze falling to Harry. “-that despite my wishes, you’re still mingling with these people.” He lifted his cane to his hand, pointing it forward towards Harry. “I believe we haven’t met face to face as of yet. Lucius Malfoy.” He did not hold out his hand in greeting. Harry remained nonplussed.

“I know who you are Mr. Malfoy,” Harry said defiantly, and Draco fought to keep his expression neutral. “Draco has told us much about you.”

Draco watched as his father’s jaw clenched, and he shivered. “I’m sure he has,” he said grimly, and he took a step forward, “And there is much I know about you, Mr. Potter.” The cane came up to brush Harry’s bangs out of his eyes, revealing the scar underneath. “And of your…history,” he sneered, “with the man who give you this.”

“Voldemort,” and even Lucius flinched, albeit, somewhat more diplomatically than Draco, “He killed my parents. He was nothing but a cruel, sadistic murderer.”

Lucius sighed, an air of impressiveness around him. “You say his name freely. I wonder if you do so naively or whether you are more of an imbecile than I had imagined.”

A small frame pushed past him, and the younger girl stood in front of his father.

“L-leave him alone,” Ginny said somewhat meekly, a hand wrapped around Harry’s arm. Harry looked down at their entwined arms, a blush on his cheeks and he smiled, to which Ginny blushed back. Draco felt a heaviness in his stomach. He blinked.

“Oh look Harry, got yourself a girlfriend.” Beside him, Ron laughed, but Lucius stood stern in front of him, before reaching out in front of him to tug at Ginny’s cauldron, a metallic sound ringing out.

“And it looks to me as if I’m in the presence of Weasleys,” he mocked, before stepping back and turning, his cloak swirling around his body. “Perhaps one day, you will learn that the presence of Mudbloods is not one to be cherished, but extinguished.” He pushed the door open,  the bell resonating violently as it slapped back against the frame, leaving the five students to stand, feeling nauseous at the encounter.

Harry turned to Draco, an unanswered question hanging between them – are you alright? – before he spotted Gildreoy Lockhart pushing through the crowd.

“I must absolutely see this Potter,” he was boasting as he pushed back his hair. “Perchance we could trade war stories.” Draco grabbed Harry’s arm, and motioned for the others, exhaling harshly as his stomach remained in knots.  
  
“We need to get out of here before that bastard catches up.”

* * *

 The four of them wandered down the cobblestoned street of Diagon Alley, Ginny returning to her mother, and not that he would say so aloud, but Draco found it immensely pleasing to be away from her. He didn’t allow himself to think about the reasoning. They quickly gathered the rest of their school supplies, exhausting catching up to them prematurely, and they were forced to say their goodbyes.

“Where are you staying?” Draco asked as Hermione reluctantly made her way back to her parents, and Harry nodded in Ron’s direction.

“The Weasleys kindly brought me in,” Harry said, and Draco felt at ease.

“And the Dursleys'?” Draco asked. Harry smirked.

“Won’t even notice that I’m gone.” Ron stood next to him, looking on the verge of cackling.

“That blasted man will be feeling that fall in the morning,” Ron laughed, and Draco wanted to question them but held his tongue.

“I don’t want to know,” he laughed, a hand on Ron’s shoulder. “Or tell me later. Can’t stop you either way.” Draco stepped back and looked at the two of them. “I’ll see you both tomorrow, yeah?” Both boys nodded.

“We’re finally going home.”

* * *

 The three Malfoys made their way to Platform ¾, all walking close together, Lucius’ shoulders pushed back in arrogance. With eyes on him from what seems like every direction, his mother tucks his hair back, and corrects his tie. It’s more than she’s done in months, and he soaks in the final few moments with her before she is yanked back to that dark house by a malevolent man. He straightens his shoulders, lifting his chin as he turns to his father, forcing him to look him in the eye. There were no consequences.

“Another year,” Draco tries, and his father nods stiffly. Draco presses. “Come now, father. There’s eyes on us. You could at least pretend that you’re not disappointed in your son.”

“Draco-“ his father warns, but Draco cuts him off.

“I know it must be so shameful to have a Gryffindor in your family,” he continues, his father’s jaw quivering in anger as Draco enunciates his words. “A _black_ smear on the family. More shameful, perhaps, than to have a former death eater in its ranks, yes?”

His father’s gaze slammed into him, his eyes giving off the illusion of being white hot, pupils dilated in fury. Draco could see his finger twitch and he frowned. “Not here, father.”

“You, you shameful loathsome creature.” The words were almost immediately brushed off his shoulders. He turns his back on his father, looking up at his mother.

“Write me, will you?” She nodded tersely. “I’ll write directly home now.” Another nod. “You’ll be alright, won’t you?” His mother looked down between them, that being answer enough. Unsure of where this confidence had come from, could feel it draining from him in pools, and Draco inhaled, held it, and exhaled it carefully. He gave no further goodbye except a curt wave behind him, and he boarded the train.

 

As if stepping through to another world, where the corridor were full of light, the hallways were bustling with students, new and old, the younger looking frantic as they searched for a compartment.

“This is when you make friends. It’s all about first impressions!” Two students pushed past him. 

“Life isn’t like your books Colin. Just find a place to see.” The bright light shone in through the windows, and Draco felt on air, disconnected, his feet moving him as his brain disagreed. He knew most of what he father said were empty threats, his safety guaranteed by his distance from the manor. But his mother’s safety was not ensured. He feared for her. He knew he was getting caught up in it all, the tell-tale sign of his fingertips turning numb and his thoughts static as he became overwhelmed. _Shameful shameful even your inner voice has abandoned you nothing is permanent in your life you push everything and everyone away he will never he will never -_

“Draco?” He paused, Hermione standing in front of him with a wide grin on her face. He tried to smile back, but none of it reached his eyes. She reached for his hand, her eyebrows pinched in. She kept silent, her touch grounding as she led them into an empty compartment, and Draco could hear her say, far away, “Everywhere else is full.” She closed the compartment, and after a moment’s hesitation, dimmed the glass. It was just the two of them. “Draco…talk to me.”

And he wanted to. He wanted to. But when he opened his mouth to speak, the words didn’t come. Nothing came. No tears, no heavy breathing, no shaking. He felt empty, a shell. His father had allowed him to be strong, but only in his presence. He felt hollow. He shook his head, and he saw Hermione exhale, a sadness spreading across her features, and Draco was sure that if he was ever able to feel again, he would have cried. She settled back against the seat.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready.” Draco felt appreciative for friendship, and he forced himself to smile.

Outside, the train whistled sounded loudly, warning for its departure, and the smell of smoke and haze filled the platform. Slowly at first before gradually getting to speed, the express pulled out of the station, the gently _chug-chug_ of the wheels almost putting Draco to sleep. He closed his eyes, his shoulders popping as he stretched, Hermione electing to flip through one of her many books as the long journey began. Silence filled the compartment save for the occasional page flip, and Draco felt uneasy.

“Hermione?” She glanced up at him, confusion evident on her face, and Draco looked at her with knitted eyebrows. He gestured around the compartment, hoping that she’d understand, and he knew she did judging by how wide her eyes became.

“Where’s Harry and Ron?”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How is it that you always pull me back to myself?"
> 
> "Because I know how you think when your thoughts get cloudy. Sometimes you need someone else to help break through the haze."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so yes, I realize this took two months, and I realized it's a shorter chapter, but I hope you enjoy. I am still hoping to finish not just this story, but the series retelling as well. I am in college, and I currently have classes, so I am trying to make sure to update here as well, but college as to come first. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me in all this. 
> 
> -isaiah

_The idiot. The_ idiots _._

Draco had taken to pacing that carriage while Hermione continued to stare out the window in some fruitless stab at finding Harry and Ron.  

“How did I not notice they weren’t here?” Draco asked, his voice higher pitched with anxiety. And with his breathing getting heavier and more frantic, he lowered himself back to his seat. He felt Hermione place a hand on his shoulder. Come back to yourself.

“They were with the Weasleys, Draco,” she began, and Draco could tell that she had put on her matter-of-fact voice once more, and for it, Draco was grateful. “They know how to get through this world. They’re probably all together back at the station trying to get in contact with the school.” Draco placed his hand over Hermione’s, the static feeling in his mind slowly tuning itself back to into his surroundings. He squeezed her hand, and smiled appreciatively.

Releasing her, he stood up once more, and moved to the window. “At least one of us is the logical one.” Behind him, she laughed.

“Do you not remember the Devil’s Snare?” she said, embarrassment coating her voice, and he turned back to face her. “We can’t all be all things at all times.” Hermione looked down at her hands, and sniffed. She brushed her hair back from her face, and gave Draco a self-depreciative look. “We all have to balance each other out.”

The carriage fell silent, not even their breathing noticeable over the din of the train engine chugging away. “We know what we are but know not what we may be.” Hermione perked up immediately.

“Did- did you just quote Hamlet at me? When did you read Hamlet?”

“Father has quite the library, but I suppose someone stashed it away there a long time ago. Even Father is not one for muggle classics.”

Hermione gave him a look, a smile, before fishing in her bag to pull out a rather large book – “I know I told you about it in my letters,” and she fell into it, engrossed throughout the pages. “I’ll lend it to you when I’m finished.”

Draco sighed, the tension in the cabin dissipating as he stood at the window, pages rustling behind him as he stared off towards the rolling hills. A pale blue dot, quite far off, seemed to be floating through the sky, and Draco moved away from the window. It’d be a question for another time.

 

The orange light of the Great Hall immediately flooded Draco with a warmth he had not felt for months. The feeling of home burst through him, and he smiled despite himself. _Home_. Acknowledging the sensation no longer frightened him.

For all the students gathered at the house tables, the lyceum was rather quiet, hushed tones filling Draco’s ears as he took his seat at the Gryffindor table. Hermione took her place opposite him, her robes flowing out behind her as she sat. She looked at him with a worried expression on her face.

“They aren’t with you?” The familiar feeling of anxiety crept its way back into Draco’s mind as he looked around the large room, half-expecting to find Harry and Ron standing not far off, cracking up at the prank they were pulling. “I’d thought we’d meet them in the common room.” Hermione was now looking around as well, and Draco struggled to take in a deep breath.

“They’ll be here,” Draco said, more to himself than Hermione, and he wanted to offer more comfort, but the hall was soon silenced as the main doors cracked open.

Draco and Hermione turned and watched as students with wide eyes and nervous smiles filed in to the corridor, black ropes sitting on their shoulders, slightly too big for their bodies. Draco could still see himself in those still so naïve and ignorant.

He spotted a head of red hair bobbing down the aisles before Ginny Weasley fully came into view, an air of confidence around her that Draco could see was slowly beginning to break. He admired her attempt; Draco had tried something similar. Put up a shield and hope that nobody would try to push past and see. The difference between them was that Ginny had nothing to be afraid of, and Draco was frightened by his own existence as a Malfoy.

He saw her whip her head around, trying to see everything she could get her eyes on, and their gazes locked as she found the Gryffindor table. Apprehension spread out on her face, and Draco tried to not take it personally, but she soon gave him a toothy smile and turned away.

One by one, the small group of first years were sorted into the respective houses, Ginny stepping forward and back almost as fast as her brother. “ _Ah,_ another _Weasley. At least this one shows the qualities of all instead of one._ ” With a wide grin on her face and a lighting dusting of pink on her cheeks, she made her way with a skip in her step to the Gryffindor table, settling in next to Hermione.

Dumbledore took his place at the front of the hall, his arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture. With only a moment’s hesitation, the tables in front of them became filled with food, the first years squeaking in surprise as many began to fill their plates.

The pleasant sensation of contentment flowed through Draco once more, and pushing aside his thoughts and anxieties, he allowed himself the luxury of food or drink. He filled his cup heartily with an apple cider.

“Where’s Ron and Harry?” She looked down upon saying Harry’s name, and Hermione smothered a snicker. Draco took a sip of the ale, conveying an amusement he did not entirely feel.

“We’re still trying to figure that out.”

Ginny sighed heavily. “Oh, bloody hell.” Draco stifled a cough, choking on his ale.

“Well, I certainly see where Ron gets it from.”

 

With the feast coming to its end, the students satiated, the houses all stood, filling the long rows as they headed towards the main doors.

Draco and Hermione stood close, the two afraid to lose each other in the crowd, and Draco turned to look behind him. Ginny was straggling not far behind him, caught up in a lively conversation with other newer students.

A quick motion towards the front of the hall caught his attention; Filch has come in hastily through the side doors, rushing forward to speak quickly to Dumbledore. With a look of glee, Snape nearly bolted from the room, McGonagall following behind with Filch and Dumbledore at her heels.

Draco yanked Hermione aside and she gave a gasp of surprise. He pulled her along, clueless but nevertheless curious, and they followed fast behind the teachers. Draco moved to cut them off through another hallway, their voices now too far to eavesdrop as Hermione made a move to drop her arm.

“What are you doing?” she wheezed, out of breath after being dragged through the castle, but Draco made no effort to explain. Their voices muffled through the walls but no less recognizable, Draco continued to follow the teachers’ paths a hall over. Draco kept moving.

“I think it’s them,” he said finally, and stood still, listening closely. The hall became deathly silent, no voices to be heard from any direction. “Where- “

“Draco, we should go back.” He shook his head.

“I thought- “He spun to look towards the end of the corridor. “We can’t have lost them…”

"We of all people should know that the castle is funny like that,” Hermione said, and she peeked around the corner to see any possible they could have passed through. “They’re teachers. I’m sure they know all the secret passageways that they can go through.”

Draco huffed and sank to the floor. Hermione came to stand in front of him. “Talk to me.” Draco looked up at her, confused, but she stood firm.

“I thought maybe they- “he cut himself off, and closed his eyes tight. “Scared, I’m _scared_.”

“Talk me through it.” He wrung his hands, and took in a shaky breath. His chest felt too tight.  

“I’m worried about Harry and Ron.” Hermione stayed silent urging him to continue. “God, I feel like such a child.” Hermione shook her head.

“There’s nothing childish about this. You’re panicking. Keep talking.”

“Harry makes me feel safe. Ron makes me feel included. You make me feel strong.” He rubbed his hands over his face, his skin clammy. “They should be here. They could be hurt.”

Hermione took a seat down next to him, and he yet again felt grateful for her presence. “I’m scared too. You know I am. You can tell because my hair is all over the place.” Draco looked over at her with a smirk, and she shook her head. Her hair bounced, and Draco gave a breathy laugh.

“Yeah, it’s everywhere.”

“I run my hands through it.” She paused, her gaze on the stone walls in front of her, and Draco let her continue. “I’m worried because they’re my best friends, and you’re my best friend, and I’m afraid that one day, you’ll all leave. You’ll all see that I’m not really needed, that I’m too obnoxious, and you’ll move on.” Draco heard her exhale sharply, and he reached an arm around her shaking shoulders, pulling her close.

“I won’t leave you. Ron and Harry definitely won’t leave you. You’re the smartest and best person I know, and I’m glad that you introduced yourself to me that day, and I’m glad we became friends.” Hermione closed her eyes. “Remember what you said earlier? We all balance each other out.” Draco gave her a squeeze. “You have to know that we would never think so unkindly of you. You have to see how great you are.” Noise in the corridor faded away, the sound of students so far away that it felt that they were the only two in the castle.

“You know,” Hermione broke through the stillness, “you’re really food at comforting people.” She let her head rest against his shoulder. “You should take your own advice.”

“Hmm?”

“You have to see your own worth too, and you have to see how much we care for you, no matter where you came from.” Draco looked over at her to meet her gaze, and she gave him a warm smile.

“How do you do that?” he exhaled, “How is it that you always pull me back to myself?” Hermione stood, her face peaceful as she offered a hand to Draco.

“Because I know how you think when your thoughts get cloudy,” she said, and helped Draco to his feet. “I only tell you what you already know. Sometimes you need someone else to help break through the haze.” Draco, with a tired expression on his face, gave Hermione a tight smile.

 

The two ambled back down the hall, turning corner after corner. The two of them listened for the sounds of students, and at the sound of running footsteps, rounded another corner, only to collide with two students.

Draco fell hard to the ground, groaning as he laid back. The four of them toppled to the floor before Hermione finally opened her eyes and gave an excited squeal. He pushed himself to a sitting position to look towards the rest of them, and for the first time in several weeks, finally felt relieved. The two spoke in unison.

_“Harry.”_

_“Draco.”_

Both boys stared at each other before Draco looked over them furiously, Harry with wounds blooming on his arms and face, and he sheepishly turned to Ron, bruised but amused.

“Fancy seeing the two of you here, eh?’


	3. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dear Harry..."

_Back in Summer_

 

 

Draco’s hands shook as he flattened the piece of parchment in front of him. He wiped his hands on his pants, his forehead sweating not just from the heat of the summer but from the anxiety that had now taken up a permanent residence within his head.

“Oh Merlin, what do I even say?” he muttered under his breath, and he sighed heavily. “Am I even allowed to say anything?”

Draco rose from where he was seated at his desk and stared at the blank sheet of paper and the unwrapped gift sitting next to it. It was too big, nothing too fancy. He knew Harry wouldn’t be comfortable with some expensive present.

The longer Draco stood there, the more ridiculous he began to feel. Why wouldn’t he be allowed to send Harry a birthday gift? It’s his birthday. And he was his friend. He took a step towards the desk again and picked up his quill once more.

Careful not to let the ink pool on the letter, he smoothed the sheet out nervously as he took another second to think

_"Dear Potter…”_

“Well, that’s a bit too formal for a boy that I nearly died for.” Draco balled up the sheet and threw it to the other side of the room.

_“Harry…”_ Not too formal, a but overly casual, but this is Harry. He’d like anything Draco would write him, right?

_“Harry,”_

_Enclosed is a gift for the occasion of your birthday.”_ Draco groaned and swiped the paper off of his desk and slid his head into his hands. Why was this so difficult? Draco glared at the gift that stared back mockingly. Why was Harry even friends with him when he can’t even do something nice for him?

Draco took another step away from the desk, and with a quick flick of his wand, bound the present up in an immaculate red wrapping paper. Draco looked on dejectedly and stopped himself from messing up his hair.

“He’ll like it. Just write the note. C’mon Draco,” he said to no one in particular, not quite hearing his own words. He picked up his quill.

_“Harry…”_

The shrill hoot of an owl caught Harry’s attention, pulling him out of a dreamless sleep with a jolt. He reached out blindly for his glasses that he knew he left on his nightstand, fumbling around for a moment before he placed them on the bridge of his nose. He yawned.

He stood up, careful not to make too much noise for fear of the Dursleys’ waking. He stood at the window, a familiar eagle owl perched dignified and diligent on the sill. Draco. Harry wasn’t sure when the thought of him first started to make him smile, but he welcomed the feeling that came along when Draco paid attention to him.

Quietly, Harry pried open the window, the panes catching on the warped wood before enough space was opened to allow the owl to duck inside.

Within its talons was a small package, the wrapping slightly misshapen through the owl’s flight, but Harry could feel the smile on his face.

“He remembered my birthday…” Harry loosened the package and note from the owl’s leg, and unsealed the letter.

 

_“Harry,_

_Happy birthday. Thank you for being my friend. I hope this gift brings you some happiness while staying the summer with those horrendous relatives of yours. May you gaze upon this in the next coming months before we meet again at Hogwarts._

_Best wishes,  
Draco”_

Harry released the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, and set the note down on his desk, turning his attention to the package. Noiselessly, he ripped off the paper, and opened the small box.

“Oh…” Sitting in the box was a small picture frame, about the size of a postcard, featuring Draco, Harry, Ron, and Hermione laughing as they sat outside on one of their weekends.

Harry stood mesmerized by the picture as the figures moved on the medium. Ron and Hermione kept looking over to each other, Hermione’s face crinkled in laughter as she pushed playfully at his shoulder. Harry turned from Draco to Ron then back to Draco, a smile ever-present on his face. And Draco stood to the left, a calm look on his face that Harry rarely sees as his eyes passed over the faces of his friends. Harry wiped at his face.

With a gentleness that Harry didn’t quite know he possessed, he sat the frame down on his desk. He scrambled around for a moment, pulling a piece of notebook paper out of a drawer, and he picked up a pencil.

_“Dear Draco…”_


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, eh? You know, if I had wanted company, I would have asked for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I'm aware this took a while to get out into the world, and I apologize in advance. With my college and work schedule, it leaves one day a week that I'm off. This story is not over, and I don't intend to stop writing it until it is completely finished. So thank you for sticking around, thank you for the nice comments that make it easier to keep writing, and thank you for the journey ahead. 
> 
> -Isaiah

“Fancy seeing the two of you here, eh?” Ron looked up at Draco and Hermione with a smirk on his freckled face, but it was soon wiped away as concern was replaced with anger.

“You- you-,” Hermione steams, and Ron scurried back into Harry, knocking him back on to his bottom. “You _asshole_. Do you know how absolutely distraught we’ve been?” Hermione stormed closer, before staring past them.

“Are you-?” she asks, her voice small and wavering slightly as Draco followed her gaze. They’ve crashed in front of the Headmaster’s office. “He didn’t expel you two, did he?” Draco inhaled deeply.

“No, no,” Harry reassures, his smile tight. “Snape tried, but no.”

“We’re incredibly lucky.” 

“More like reckless,” Draco hears himself say, and he cringes at his tone. “What were you thinking?” He wants to be angry, but he can already feel relief begin to flare in his chest. At the sight of the bruises slowly blossoming over the faces and body of both frightened boys in front of him, he quiets himself, expecting no answers right now. Harry’s gaze broke away from Draco, and Draco felt his heart in his stomach.

“What happened to the both of you?” Ron and Harry give each other a quick glance, and Draco feels out of place. Staring at the boys in front of him, he feels the need to protect, while also feeling like he’s standing on ice and is a second away from a free fall. His stomach churns. He can feel himself retreating.

“Did ya’ know that the tree outside moves?” Ron begins, Harry chiming in at the right parts of the story – “Just wait until your mother hears about this.” – and slowly, the tension from the previous day begins to seep out of Draco’s shoulder until he no longer feels the weight of it all. He risks a glance at Harry and finds him with his brows furrowed, but he remains silent. Is this how he feels all the time?

Ron and Harry pull themselves to their feet, dusting at their clothes before giving up at their feeble attempt at cleanliness, and yawn. 

“We’ve missed the feast, haven’t we?” Ron asks, and almost on cue, his stomach rumbles. Hermione can’t help but laugh.

“Afraid so Weasley,” Draco says, an annoyance on his lips that he doesn’t help to stifle. Who was he to be angry? To be annoyed? They were fine. Draco pursed his lips. “Come on, don’t want to be caught out of bed.”

The trio behind him shared a puzzled look after Draco as he stalks away, before blinking and running to catch up, Harry hesitant, his ears straining before he too took up a jog.

After their goodbyes in the common room as the group separates to their dorms, awkwardness hung in the arm between the three boys. None had spoken to each other as they made their journey back, and the silence began to stretch into a territory they had thought they had already passed through.

As Draco laid down, the events of the day unfolding in his brain again and again and again and again and again and- he knew he was being unreasonable. What right did he have to be angry? What right did he have to be anxious? What right did he have to feel anything at all?

He could catch whispers coming from the other side of the room, the hushed tone of two boys lucky to be spending another night in the place they have all come to call home. And Draco felt so detached from it all that he might as well have been expelled himself.

Once the whispers had subsided, and the room was placed into the comfortable silence of softly snoring teenagers, Draco sat upright. Dragging his shoes on, he crept out of the door, through the portrait hole, and out into the corridor.

 

* * *

 

One night in, and he could already feel himself reverting to the mindset of the previous year. Hide all emotions that would appear outwardly vulnerable, and in its place, express the annoyance, the sarcasm, the anger that felt more at home in him than ever before. 

“Maybe it would have been better to have just been put into Slytherin,” he grumbled at the air, imagining his words creeping into the stone walls before being held there. The castle could hold many secrets; his would not allow it all to collapse. He wandered along, his soft breathing and slow padding footsteps echoing quietly along. 

Painfully aware of the loneliness he felt creeping into his mind, his thoughts wandered to Harry. Their walks from the year prior, their comfortable camaraderie as they ambled through the halls, never feeling the need to speak, to fill the silence.

Draco would not allow himself to linger on why Harry seemed to press against most of his thoughts nowadays, for the answer, he knew, would be one he could not accept. He didn’t want to think about the way he feels when Harry looks at him like he placed his happiness in Draco’s hands. Draco didn’t want to responsibility. Harry didn’t want-

“Draco?” He froze in his tracks, but he knew he was caught even as he turned back on his heels. “What are you doing?”

Harry stood in the middle of the hallway, his eyes still scrunched together in sleep and a yawn at the ready, his hair stood on end as if he had just lifted his head from his pillow.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, eh?” Draco could feel himself drawing back in, pushing away the anxiety and the vulnerability. Maybe it was never truly there to begin with, if he could so easily cause it to dissipate. Maybe he’ll always have this anger, this need for scathing sarcasm, this deadly ambitious thought that told him to “keep pushing, keep prodding, keep _going_.” “You know, if I had wanted company, I would have asked for it.”

Harry looked at him, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Why are you acting like that?”

Draco couldn’t help an eye roll. “Like what, Potter?” Draco could see Harry’s jaw clench.

“Like an arsehole.” Draco scoffed despite himself and turned his back to Harry.

“Go back to bed,” he muttered, not bothering to look back at him. “I don’t need this right now.” He once again began walking down the hallway, leaving Harry to stand in the middle of the corridor, a defeated look on his face as he headed back to the common room.

  _I am truly good for nothing else_ , Draco thought of himself, except to cause the pain of the same friends who have already given him so much.

 

* * *

 

As morning broke, the castle began to stir awake. A series of groans and creaks echoed through the corridors as if the castle was resettling to its students once more, and slowly, the houses awoke and began to chatter.

Harry sat awake on his bed, having not fallen back asleep after returning to the dorms for the night as he waited for Draco to return. When he finally did, the boy had done nothing except pass him an apathetic look as he climbed into bed and promptly fell asleep. Harry fought the urge to huff in frustration.

As he moved to the common room, Hermione met up with him, a look of relief still present on her face. 

“You had Draco and I scared, you know? We thought something bad had happened.” Harry smirked.

“Something bad did happen,” he teased, and Hermione pushed at his shoulder. “And honestly ‘mione, Draco doesn’t seem to have been scared at all. It seems as though my very presence around him causes him pain.”

“What do you mean?” Harry thought back to the corridor, how Draco had simply turned his back on him, had not even wanted his company, couldn’t even deign a proper excuse to him. Thinking of the inevitable lecture Hermione would give the two of them if she learned they had snuck out on the first night back, he shrugged instead.

“He just seems off, doesn’t he?” Hermione looked past him, and Harry straightened, turning to find Ron meandering down the steps with Draco not far behind him. The two hit the landing, Ron coming up beside Harry to sling an arm around his shoulders, Draco striding past all three to reach the portrait door. Harry thinks he’s about to step out and leave them all alone, but he instead holds the door open for them.

_There’s a smile on his lips_ , Harry thinks. _Perhaps last night was just-_ Harry freezes as Draco touches his arm as he passes through the threshold. He looks exhausted, but not angry. Harry considers it a win. _Perhaps last night was not as it seemed._

 

Soon, all four have left the common room, a not-so-heavy silence hanging over them as they head to the Great Hall. 

It soon became clear that peace would not last long at this particular breakfast. The first sign of trouble being a young boy, a first year, shoving a camera into Harry’s face with frantic excitement.

“It really is you!” he practically shrieked, his eyes bright. “C-can you um, can you sign this for me?” He pressed a paper into Harry’s chest, and across from him, Ron and Draco laughed quietly to himself. “It would be a lot to me and my brother, he said that you wouldn’t be here, but I KNEW that I saw you on the train, and it really was you! I’m Colin by the way, my brother’s Dennis maybe you’ve met him before-“ 

“OUCH!” Hermione cried out as Colin knocked his camera against her head. He cringed and backed away but continued on just as enthusiastically.

“Do you think I could get a picture with you? And maybe your friend can take it and I’ll stand next to you, and then you could sign that for me?” 

“You’re give out signed photos now, Potter?” Draco taunted lightly, and Harry looked over at him, exasperated.

“Oi, shut up Malfoy,” he said, his cheeks read with embarrassment. “Colin, Colin, hey,” Harry attempted to cut him off as a taller boy walked up behind Colin.

“C’mon, leave the poor guy alone.”

“Aw, but Dennis, it’s-!”

“I know who he is, and he probably just wants to eat his breakfast!” Colin nodded, but raised his camera as if to take a candid photo. “ _In_ _peace_.” Colin faltered, giving Dennis enough time to pull him away by the sleeve of his shirt.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Ron chortled, earning him a swat from Hermione, “That kid’s gonna be the next Lockhart with all the glamor shots he’s taking.”

“Or maybe the next Rita Skeeter,” Hermione laughed, and Draco allowed a smile to his face as he turned to face the front of the room. Through the porthole near the ceiling came a hoot as the owls began to make their morning rounds with the mail. Not seeing his owl, Draco deflated, giving the rest of the group a shrug as he attempted to keep his unhappiness off his face, instead choosing to watch the swooping and gracefulness of the owls.

“Ron is that…”he began, but was cut off as the owl in question took a nosedive and crashed unremarkably onto the table. “…your owl?” Ron nodded with a derisive snort.

“The old bat’s getting worse,” he muttered as he untied the bright red note attached to its foot. “I swear, one of these days, he’s gonna just drop out of the sky- “ Ron turned over the note, and his entire face went more pale. Harry leaned over to read whatever caused his pallor to change.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, as Ron nearly vomited the contents of his stomach onto the table. Seamus and Dean caught sight and broke out into a fit of laughter.

“Look here,” Seamus hollered, Dean gasping for breath alongside him, “Weasley’s got himself a Howler.”

Draco looked at the note as if it were about to explode, but Hermione and Harry stared on in confusion.

“Just open it Ron, what’s the worst that can happen?” The letter, which had begun to steam, flew up from Ron’s hand, its paper edges transforming into that of a leathery mouth.

“RONALD WEASLEY! HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR. I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED.” Ron cringed, and Draco was surprised he had not melted into the floor. Harry sat beside him, his eyes wide as he stared at the note. He could just imagine Mrs. Weasley’s red face as she magicked the note. “YOUR FATHER IS NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, AND IT’S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT.” Hermione shuddered at the voice and was half tempted to block her ears. “IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE, WE’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME.” Ron let out a groan and sunk into his seat, his red hair quite nicely matching the color of his face. The note shifted and turned. “OH, AND GINNY DEAR, CONGRATULATIONS ON MAKING GRYFFINDOR, YOUR FATHER AND I ARE SO PROUD.” Upon the last word, the note flew upwards, and burst into flame, the crumbling ashes falling into Ron’s hair. The entire hall was silent for a moment as the air settled, and then everyone moved around, the chatter hiding the sinking feeling around the four students. None said a word for a moment before Draco finally decided to speak, at the same time as Hermione had decided to speak as well. 

“You _flew_ the car?” 

“The Ministry of Magic knows?”

Ron groaned louder this time, and fully sank to the floor, settling underneath the table. Harry patted his head, and Draco doesn’t bother to hold in a laugh.

* * *

 

As night fell on the castle once more, and Draco settled into night two of no sleep, the creaks of the castle became more pronounced.

He could hear the shuffling of the covers as the four other boys tossed and turned in their dreamlike states. The noises are too loud in Draco’s ears, and he can feel the hair stand up on his neck and arms. A sigh echoed around the close room, and Draco quietly sat up in bed.

There would be no sleep for him tonight.

And so, he once again went through the process of carefully putting on his shoes, wary of the groans of the floorboards and opened the door, slipping out into the silent common room and through the portrait hole. He was not surprised when he heard the echoes of another set of footsteps coming from behind him. Draco paused, an insult already pushing his way past his tongue, but Harry beat him to the punch.

“Talk to me.” Draco stared at him, or stared past him. Either way, he could feel his expression blank as the words died on his lips. “Please." 

Draco shook his head. “I don’t have anything to say.” Draco wasn’t moving now, but Harry sped up to meet with him. He looked at him properly, for what felt like the first time in weeks. Draco felt his cheeks burn as he fidgeted under Harry’s scrutiny. He was taller than Draco now, not by a lot, but enough for Draco to have to tilt his head. His eyes, while bright, seemed impossibly tired, and Harry unconsciously pushed his glasses up his nose.

“You’re staring at me.” Harry wasn’t smiling, and he took a step back, and Draco could feel his stomach flipping. “I know I didn’t ask first, but would you like some company?”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“I didn’t say anything about talking.”

And Harry began walking forward with the confidence that a young boy shouldn’t have yet, and despite the feelings within Draco’s head that told him to stay put, he followed behind him. And Draco could finally see Harry smile.

The two walked in silence, just as Harry promised, Draco following just behind him as they moved through the castle, Harry never prompting a conversation, and Draco never asking. This was the way the two worked with each other: Harry, the solid leader, the force to move ahead, and Draco, the follower, the stoic. He didn’t like their dynamic, didn’t think it worked in practice, but he couldn’t complain at having Harry’s friendship.

By the time they reached the staircases, they had been walking for nearly an hour, never speaking, only breathing. And Draco could see that Harry needed speak.

“What is it that you want from me?” Draco says finally, causing Harry to flinch at the noise. _I guess we’re going for argument tonight._ He collects himself and turns to face Draco.

“I want a friend,” Harry begins, and Draco knows that he’s just opened the latch to whatever thoughts had been swirling through Harry’s head. “I want to talk to the friend who I could share anything with last year. The boy who was finally opening up and showing that he was different.”

“Different to who? The Slytherins? I’m not-“

“I know, I know, you’re not a Slytherin.” 

“Then what are you saying?” Draco hated the backwards way Harry seemed to speak to him, as if was walking on eggshells, and he kicked himself mentally as he realized that he was the one to create this wall of tension between them.

“I know you Draco, you’re kind. So don’t treat me like something you picked off your shoe-“

“I’m not-“ 

“-and stop talking!” Harry huffed, and Draco felt himself back away from him. He looked very much his age now, and Draco realized just how young the two of them were. Far too young for such advanced feelings.

“I thought you wanted to talk, Potter.” He could feel a sneer on his face, the feeling in his chest one of satisfaction. “I thought you wanted to stalk me around the castle. I thought you wanted to pester, to be involved, to pretend you’re not alone. My actions don’t concern you, my words don’t help you.” 

“You weren’t like this before. What changed?”

“Maybe everything changed. Maybe being sent home to a father who you mean nothing to changed the way I act. Being a soldier doesn’t stop once you leave the barracks. Maybe it brought out what I was already. Maybe nothing changed.”

“Stop it.” Harry’s voice was low, and Draco faltered. _What are you doing. What are you doing? Stop it._ His internal voice sounded very similar to Harry’s right now. “Just…” Harry sighed, and he leaned against the stone wall behind him, rubbing a hand over his face before deciding to just simply sink to the floor. “I care about you, Draco.” Harry held up a hand as Draco tried to interject. “I don’t know what’s happened during the summer, or what happened while me and Ron were nearly murdered by a tree, but I still care about you.” 

Harry looked up at Draco and stared. Draco squirmed, but held his ground. Harry’s eyes raked over his face, and his eyebrows pinched together. “You look so different.” Draco frowned, but remained silent. Anything else he could say would shatter it all. “You look tired. Angry. Anxious.”

“Stop it.”

Harry heaved himself back to his feet, and reached out to touch Draco, pausing for a moment – _always asking for permission_ – before Draco nodded minutely. Harry immediately wrapped his arms around Draco, pulling him close. He breathed in deeply, willing his eyes dry, and he slowly wrapped his arms around Harry.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Harry said, his voice gentle against Draco’s ear, “I hardly ever do.” Draco stifled a little laugh. “I don’t know, and you don’t have to tell me. Not right now. And that’s okay. You’re not at the manor, you’re not with your father. You are not your father.” Draco made a move to pull away, to look Harry in the face. “Please get some sleep.”

“Harry-" 

“We can talk tomorrow night. We’re angry. We need to sleep.”  Harry pulled away from Draco, and held out his hand instead. “C’mon.” 

Draco hesitated for a moment, afraid that once he took his hand, that all attempts at distancing himself would crack, that his façade at keeping himself together would break, and he would fall to the floor a broken mess, clinging to a lifeline that could not return the feelings. Draco inhaled a shuddering breath.

And took Harry’s hand.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guttural creak of bones that were not his own made him pause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is so short, college has been kicking my ass, but I wanted to make sure that I posted an update! I hope you enjoy, I tried to make it a bit spooky to fit the season. 
> 
> Also, I have a patreon now! If you would like to support me, you can find me on:
> 
> https://www.patreon.com/isaiahkeaton
> 
> -Isaiah

Harry walked to halls silently now. The companionship he had wanted to share had long since left him, was now sleeping quietly in his bed. Draco is sleeping, and he will be fine without him. He should be happy to get a breath of fresh air, but the warbling voices in his head kept him from making any sense of the world. 

A hiss, an inhale, followed by his shaky exhale. He wasn’t alone.

The thing in his mind slithered through the halls, leaving behind a grimy slime that was the only tangible proof of its existence. Like the tendrils of a squid, it wrapped itself around Harry, pulling him taut, his body shaking with exertion despite the exhaustion behind his eyes. He rolled his shoulders, and the tendrils recoiled. They were never there. 

_I smell – blood._  

Harry cast his eyes downward, a show of hesitation as he followed the voice through the halls, no longer feeling the solemn relief of a quiet corridor at night. The castle had long since settled, her towers shuttering as the dozed only to awake with a jitter. He should be happy at the sleepiness of the world. 

_Let me –_ he turned, the stone walls going on forever as he fought to keep his eyes open. Something was pulling away from the walls, a tangible shadow, a creature that Harry did not want to see. _– rip you. Let me kill you._

Harry’s body continued to shake as he held his hand along the wall, the coldness brushing against his palm keeping him in the moment. Something was looking for him, but he was going to find it first. 

A cackle burst through his mind, and he stumbled to a halt, his knees giving out as he crashed to the floor, the hard stone an unforgiving bruise. His head became hot as pain began to radiate outward, and he groaned quietly, his eyes screwed shut.

_Harry_.

His name sounded wrong coming from the tongue of a beast. His name sounded wrong when not spoken with a conviction he did not believe. His name sounded wrong in the mouth of a thing that had no need for him. His name meant nothing.

The guttural creak of bones that were not his own made him pause.

His eyes cracked open with a raw intensity, and he pulled himself back on his haunches, his eyes seeing red.

_“The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware.”_ He had found his purpose – Harry – and he fell back to the floor with a quiet thud. There would be no relief for him tonight.


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "“The school already thinks it’s me. I should be the one to prove them otherwise.” He stood up straighter, looking towards the three of them, who slowly nodded in agreement. Harry smiled, and headed for the portrait hole, and Draco looked on in sadness as he noticed the tension on Harry’s face. With his hands shaking, Harry pushed open the door."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI. 
> 
> I understand this took a while to post, but I wanted to make sure I wrote enough to constitute a whole chapter. I am officially on winter break from college, and I will have a bit more time to write now that I don't have to focus too much on school. 
> 
> There will probably be one more chapter in year two, with enough twists and turns to keep you on your toes. After that, we move on to year three. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me!  
> .isaiah

_“The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware.”_

The uncomfortable feeling had sunk to the bottom of Harry’s stomach as he sat on the cold stone floor, and he struggled to retain his breath. The words in front of him dripped in a red ooze, the copper smell of blood all too potent in his nostrils. He fought the urge to vomit.

Every alarm in his body lit up at the same time, the distant sound of footsteps echoing down the corridor, and he jumped to his feet, and ran off in the direction of the Gryffindor common room. He had just entered the portrait hold when he crashed into someone leaving, sending the two of them flying to the floor with a thud. 

“Ah-“ Harry wheezed, his eyes squeezed shut as he rubbed the back of his head in annoyance. “Ouch.”

“Harry?” He flushed, cracking his eyes open to see Draco massaging his elbow. “We really must stop doing that?”

Harry huffed, his fists clenched. “What are you doing here?” Draco yawned, seemingly unbothered.

“I sleep here too.”

“What are you still doing awake?”

“I could ask you the same.”

“Do you ever answer any question that I ask?” Draco looked somewhat taken aback, and Harry allowed himself a moment to feel satisfied. _I got him to pause._

Draco looked at him through innocent eyes. “You didn’t come back.” Harry blinked in confusion.

“Huh?” 

“From your walk. You always come back. You hadn’t come back yet.”

“Were you waiting up for me?” 

Draco laughed through a scowl on his lips. “Don’t act like you’re so important. I didn’t want you losing is house points by clattering through the halls after curfew.” He stared at his shoes. The two of them remained silent, Harry’s thoughts getting dragged back to the words on the wall. He should really wake Ron- “Harry?” 

“Hmm?”

“You’re shaking.” Harry held up his hands, his fingertips a bluish color. Draco stepped forward, and hesitantly placed his hands over Harry’s, warming his fingers. They stood like that for a moment, neither daring to speak, and Draco could feel that his face was hot. There was pink color on Harry’s cheeks.

“Draco?”  
  
“Yeah?" 

“There’s something I have to show you.”

 

In a school such as Hogwarts, it was no wonder that rumors had begun to spread far and wide once dawn broke. The walls carried more secrets than Harry cared to admit. He sat quiet at the table, uncommonly stoic, as indiscrete whispers surrounded him from all sides of the hall.

“Was it blood?”

“Thick, oozing blood. Spread on the walls like finger paint.”

“And Potter found it?”

“ _Found_ it? Caught red-handed.”

Draco turned around and hissed at the Ravenclaw table, immediately shutting up the gossipers behind them. Ron and Hermione pushed away anyone at the Gryffindor table getting too close.

“We know you didn’t do it Harry,” Hermione was saying, as if that was supposed to make him feel at all better about himself.

“Yeah, mate,” Ron began, but Harry was all too focused on Draco, who had returned to his normal state of quiet sarcasm, and offhand air about him. Harry glared at him unbeknownst to himself.

He couldn’t understand the boy sitting beside him, who could not feel farther away from him. There were times were Draco could simmer, the tips of his ears seemingly tinged red as he sat in his own anger, frustrated by those around him, especially those closest to him. But there were times Harry found him still, outwardly cool as he allowed himself to be free, to do as he pleased, as if there was no one around. That Draco had no one to pretend to.

Harry saw the way he looked at him, and he didn’t quite know what it all meant. But his mind dragged him back to the hallway, to the night where Draco finally took his hand and allowed him back in. The night felt as though it had occurred several decades ago, with Draco falling back into himself as he moved further and further from his friends. Harry didn’t understand it, and he didn’t like it at all. But he was grateful that he hadn’t left.

Harry had fallen silent, and Draco turned to look at him, his default expression one step away from a sneer, and Harry wanted to smack it off his face, make him smile, make him the boy he thought he was last year. He pursued his lips and arose from the table, uncaring of its accidental grandiose appearance, and stormed from the hall, leaving students with bated breath as Ron, Hermione, and Draco stared after him, unknowing of the conflict in his head.

Harry didn’t quite understand anything at all.

 

This night walk was a lot different to what Draco was expecting. The routine was as anticipated; he couldn’t sleep, and so he arose slowly, careful to make as little noise as possible on the creaky floor of the dorm room. He noticed a bed empty and smiled despite himself. Harry was probably downstairs.

It was taking a lot for Draco to allow himself to feel. His shoulders felt constantly shrugged, a weight in his chest pulling him forward. Even at Hogwarts, he felt under his father’s thumb, and the little solider that he knows he still is was starting to fall out of line. Trying to push his friends away would accomplish nothing. They were about as stubborn as he was. He should feel thankful for them, but there was a disconcerting feeling in his stomach. He was going to lead them to danger.

Draco padded downstairs, slipping a sweater over his head as he moved. When he reached the bottom of the steps, he froze. Ron and Hermione sat in the arm chairs near the fireplace, a small flame still crackling at the kindling of the wood pile. They appeared to be whispering to each other, but Draco couldn’t make out any words. He debated on turning and simply going back to his bed when Hermione turned toward him. He was caught. He sighed and moved toward them.

“What are you two still doing awake?” Draco asked, feigning a yawn. Hermione looked at him through disbelieving eyes while Ron yawned along with him.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Draco could tell it was a lie, and he watched as she rose to her feet to meet Draco at the base of the stairs. Her gaze raised up to the top of the stairs before it landed back on Draco, and he had the awkward feeling that he was being scrutinized. He scratched his nose. “Harry not going with you?”

Draco, surprised, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “How did you-?” Ron snorted from where he sat in his arm chair.

“The two of you are not as quiet as you think,” he said, trying and failing to hide another yawn. “Are you guys exploring? Solving mysteries? Or are you going to keep that a secret too?” Hermione looked toward Ron with disapproval before her face shifted to a smirk. Draco wondered just how close the two of them had gotten in his wake.

“We’re going with you.”

“What?”

Hermione stared at him with incredulity. “There’s a monster roaming the halls, and you think we’re just gonna sit idly by?” Draco looked towards the floor, at his feet, but an argument could not be made in his head. “Also, who else is gonna tell you about the Chamber of Secrets?”

Draco’s head shot up at the mention and saw the distinct gleam in her eye that means she knows something, and she is going to share it.

“I went to the library- “

“Well that’s nothing new,” Ron said, who appeared just as confused as Draco felt.

“ _Somebody_ had to,” she counted, and Ron hid a smile, “but when I went, I couldn’t find _anything_ about the Chamber of Secrets.” Ron and Draco were both uncharacteristically silent for a moment, and Hermione took that as her cure. “And when I asked Binns about it, he practically shouted at me to leave his office.” 

“So, no one truly knows what it is,” Draco said, defeated. He had hoped that finding answers would be easy, but he didn’t even know where to start looking. “Where do we even go from here?” Hermione’s face lit up once more.

“I did find something. I just don’t quite know what to make of it.” Hermione took in a breath. “This isn’t the first time the Chamber has been opened.” Draco knew better than to cut her off now. “The last time it was opened, a student was killed.”

“ _Killed_?” Ron exclaimed, his face transforming into an expression of shock. “’mione, we can’t get involved in this…”

“Yes we can.” A new voice, and Draco looked to the stairs as he watched Harry gingerly make his way down the steps. He looked exhausted.

“What are you doing awake?” Draco asked calmly, a juxtaposition of the tension in his body.

“You’re not as quiet as you think.”

Hermione looked embarrassed for a moment before Harry bent and tied the laces of his shoes. “Well? Are we going?”

“Going?”

“To find this monster. That’s what we do, right?”

Draco, Hermione and Ron lingered silently, and Draco could feel his face flush. Here Harry was, setting forward in the face of danger, looking and acting much older than he should.

“The school already thinks it’s me. I should be the one to prove them otherwise.” He stood up straighter, looking towards the three of them, who slowly nodded in agreement. Harry smiled, and headed for the portrait hole, and Draco looked on in sadness as he noticed the tension on Harry’s face. With his hands shaking, Harry pushed open the door. 

 

As the four of them stepped into the corridor, Draco was overcome with the feeling of deja-vu. “Is this going to be a yearly thing for us?” he joked quietly, Hermione smiling at him. 

“ _For where there is danger, there shall be those who seek to find it._ ”

“Who wrote that?" 

“I did.” Draco allowed himself a smile. Harry stood at the head of the group, to easily fitting into a leader role. Draco came up to stand beside him.

“Are you alright?” Harry seemed surprised to be addressed to gently. He slowed his walk but did not look at Draco. 

“I’ll be fine.”

“Are you not fine now?” Harry stopped abruptly, and Draco was worried he had said the wrong thing. “Harry?” His face was blank, a pained look in his eyes. 

_I want – I want to kill._

Hermione and Ron came to stand beside Harry, who had not moved for more than a minute. Draco felt a lump in his throat. 

_I will rip you apart._  

Harry leaned against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut as he appeared to be listening to something the rest of them couldn’t hear. His body was taut, and Draco was worried he was going to collapse to the floor.

_I want – I want – you._

Harry looked up suddenly, causing Draco to fall back in shock. “I think it’s gonna kill someone.” And Harry took off into a run down the hall, leaving the three of them to pause before the immediately took off as well, following close behind.

“Harry!” He didn’t respond, not bothering to turn and call to them. Harry turned corner after corner, a dreadful feeling hanging heavy in the air. Draco never wanted to see Harry look afraid ever again. The sound of his footsteps warped into a splash before they slowed to nothing, and Draco rounded a corner, finding Harry on his knees. Hermione and Ron moved to him.

“O-oh.” Draco’s feet carried him forward as he came to kneel beside Harry. The young boy, the enthusiastic one, laid on the floor, a camera in his hands and a frightened look pasted on his face. He did not move, even his hair caught in a paralyzed state. His skin was grey, much different to the healthy pallor the boy had once had. He laid in a pool of water, the hallway having been flooded. Draco stifled a gag, and he spotted a black object floating alongside the body. Draco reached out to grab it, a book, and he stowed it away behind him.

Hermione leaned back, away from the boy on the floor. Draco could see tears in her eyes.

“Is he-?” Harry had not moved, just held on to the hand of Colin Creevey. His eyes were closed. Spiders ran beside them on the floor, crawling away from the scene. Ron jumped back away from them when a new set of footsteps startled the group, causing the three of them to jump to their feet, their pants soaked to the knee. Harry remained on the floor, and Draco put his hands on his shoulders.

“Harry,” he whispered, and Harry slowly stood, leaning into Draco’s touch.

As the four of them looked toward the end of the hallway, a flash of indigo caught their attention as Professor Dumbledore came gliding down the corridors, even his walk authoritative in manner. Behind him, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape followed, the two of them the epitome of discipline. However, even Professor Snape’s expression shifted as their eyes landed to the boy on the floor. 

A quick flick of Professor McGonagall’s wand lifted Colin into the air, his body floating several feet above the floor, stable. She looked towards Dumbledore, who nodded his head imperceptibly. She turned on her heels, and swooping her wand forward, moved along down the hallway in the direction of the Hospital Wing. 

Attention was drawn back to the four students who stood cowering under the gaze of the Headmaster. Draco stared forward, his face blank as he held Harry upright, Hermione and Ron looking very much like children. They were children.

“Professor, we-“ Hermione tried to begin, but was cut off with a gentle hand from Professor Dumbledore. Professor Snape looked absolutely incensed.  

“It appears the rumors are true then.” Snape sneered, but was cut off with a choke when Professor Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Now, now Severus. You can’t possibly believe that four twelve-year-old students have the necessary powers it takes to petrify someone, now do you?” Professor Snape remained quiet, and Draco was almost expecting him to turn and storm away with a flourish of his cape. Dumbledore turned back to the four of them, looking at them over his half-moon spectacles.

“You- you don’t think we did it?” Ron squeaked, and Draco would have laughed had he not been so concerned with the fact that Harry was not only looking through Professor Dumbledore but was also barely speaking. Professor Snape’s gaze fell upon the two of them. 

“And what’s happened here then, hmm?” he said, stepping forward as if to take a closer look at Harry. “Potter’s virtually acting petrified himself.” Professor Dumbledore was already looking at them when Draco met his eyes. He took in a breath.

“Harry was the one who found _him_.” Dumbledore nodded in understanding while Snape’s ears went red. He stepped towards Dumbledore, lowering his voice slightly.

“And you’re just gonna believe was Malfoy says? I find it hard to believe that you’ve forgotten how his father-“

“Innocent until proven guilty, Severus,” Professor Dumbledore interrupted, and Snape finally huffed, and turned, and walked away from the group. Dumbledore spoke to them gently. “Best of you to go back to your common room. Wouldn’t want to be caught out late.” He tapped his nose with his index finger, and watched as the four students hurried back to where they had departed.

It was only once they were safely in the foyer that Harry spoke. Draco hesitantly let go of his shoulder.  

“Did any of you hear it?” Draco looked at him with wide eyes. 

“Hear what?”

“The voice.” Hermione stared at him for a long moment.

“There wasn’t any voice Harry.” He sighed heavily and scrubbed a hand over his face. Some color had begun to come back to his cheeks, but Draco could see the fatigue that he was trying to hide on his face. 

“We should sleep. We can find answers in the morning.” With a nod, they made their way back up the stairs, Draco, ever the follower now, just behind them.

 

The school was abuzz with tension, as tight as a bowstring, and with curfews being set in place, students were as high-strung as ever.

When he had a quiet moment, the first, it felt to him, he had all year, and he retrieved the book he had found. An empty diary. A scuffed name on the front stood out against the leather. Tom Marvolo Riddle. Once Hermione had examined it, she couldn’t make two cents out of it. 

“It’s just a blank diary Draco.” Ron and Harry had similar reactions, but Harry asked if he could look it over more.

“Have you tried writing in it?” Draco shook his head.

“It’s not mine to write in.”

The diary remained closed on Draco’s night stand, untouched, its secrets remaining inside its pages. It has, until now, when Draco grabbed it before class, and began to take notes within it, only to find that the ink disappeared moments after written.

“Ah,“ he stuttered, and he kept dripping ink on to the page, watching it swirl and vanish. He pushed the book back into his bag to retrieve later, angry at his current situation.

He held it out to Hermione hours later in the common room. The four of them were off to their own tasks, Ron and Harry attempting to finish their compositions with Hermione and Draco taking two of the arm chairs near the fireplace.

“This again, Draco?” Hermione sighed, putting her own reading material away.

“Try writing in it.”

“Why?” Draco was getting frustrated and plucked the quill out of Potter’s hand mid-sentence.

“Hey!” he squacked, and Draco ruffled at his hair before rushing back to the diary, Harry at his heels. “I need that!”

“I do too, this is important!”

“What, and my essay isn’t?”

“Well maybe if you had finished it early-“

“Okay ‘mione, just be quick about it.” Harry dodged a pillow to the head from Hermione as Draco opened the diary to a random page and let the ink pool and drip onto the paper. Hermione and Harry watched in fascination as the ink faded into nothing.

“Whoa!” Harry exclaimed, his eyes bright with astonishment, and Draco smiled up at him. 

“See,” he said with pride, dipping the pen again. This time, he wrote a sentence.

_‘The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware.’_ The group watched as the ink faded once more, but instead of empty paper being left in its place, a sentence from within the pages rose to the surface. 

_‘My, where did you learn such information?”_ The ink stayed on the page a beat longer, and Draco felt his fist clench around the quill.

“Has it done that before?” Hermione asked, a wavering in her voice as Draco shook his head. Harry grabbed the quill out of Draco’s hand.

_‘Are we talking to someone?’_ A beat. ‘ _’Yes.’_ Harry kept going. _‘Who?’ ‘Read the cover.’_

“Tom Marvolo Riddle,” Harry read, turning to Draco. “Who’s that?” He shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“Tom Marvolo Riddle?” Ron had perked up from where he sat, his head hung over his essay. “He was a student here.”

“How do you know that?” 

“The nights we had detention, from the tree stuff. I polished some plaque with his name on it. Special services to the school or something. From like 50 years ago.”

It was Hermione’s turn to write something.

_'What do you know about the Chamber of Secrets?’_ A breath in. _‘Everything.’_ Hermione looked up from the writing, and Draco urged her to continue. _‘When was it opened?’  ‘Decades ago.’ ‘Who opened it?’ ‘That’s an unfair question. Ask something else.’_ Hermione scratched her head.

_‘What’s in it?’ ‘A creature.’ ‘Where is it?’ ‘A forgotten place.’_

“What does this thing have to talk in riddles?” Draco muttered, and Harry chuckled beside him. 

“It’s in his name, isn’t it?” Harry laughed loudly, and Draco shoved him to the floor with a thud. Harry kept laughing. 

“You’re insufferable.”

_‘Why are you telling us this information?’_ The diary seemed to hesitate, as if it was thinking hard about its wording.

_‘This diary holds memories of terrible things. When the chamber was opened, the monster attacked many, and killed someone. A young girl. I caught who opened it, and they were expelled. A giant of a man.’_

“Hagrid?” Ron asked quietly, but they kept reading. _‘Find the chamber, before someone else is killed by the monster.’_ The diary went silent, the ink from the pages fading, nothing reappearing.

The group sat back on the haunches, all of them having leaned forward over the diary. Draco looked towards the window, the grounds bathed in moonlight with several spiders grouped on the stone ledge.

“Well what do we do now?” All of them remained silent. None of them had an answer.


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron stared at him in disgust, and Draco was sickeningly reminded of the previous year, where Ron looked at him as nothing more than dirt on his nose. 
> 
> “We’re children.”
> 
> “We’re Gryffindors.” Silence feel once again, and Draco cracked under the tension. Shoulders bent, he sat back down in his chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be one more chapter after this one to complete this year! After that, a short break, and then year three will begin. 
> 
> I enjoyed writing the buildup for this chapter, and I am excited for what I have planned to finish this year!
> 
> I recommend listening to this as you read if you are into that.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OSye8OO5TkM
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> isaiah

It felt like the thousandth time Draco had thought this same thought, but Draco believed it nonetheless; _thank Merlin for Hermione Granger._

The group had descended into a tense silence, the diary in front of them no longer responding to their incessant questions. There were several things they now had to go on: the diary of Tom Riddle knew everything about the Chamber of Secrets, which was opened decades ago under similar conditions. The chamber had been opened by a giant of a man. A creature resides within, which killed a young girl, and which can be found through a forgotten place.

Hermione remained seated, a slight fidget to her hands as she wracked her brain. The three boys with her remained silent in fear that she would burst if the knowledge did not come to her. Lucky for them that the common room had cleared out for the night for Hermione let out an excitable squeak as an idea came to her.

“Hagrid was expelled when he was a student here,” Hermione begins, and all at once, an explanation begins to fall into place. “We need to talk to him. I don’t want to believe that he did it, but we can’t know for sure.

“But it’s Hagrid-“ Harry tries to cut in, “it can’t be him. I-it’s Hagrid!” Even as the words leave his mouth, Harry knew that there was no other explanation. Who else would be described as a giant of a man?

Draco stared between the three of them, feeling himself retreating back in on himself. He couldn’t help the feeling that they were getting close to the end, the suspect identified, a lead found. This would be the point in the story where there would be a plot twist. They were missing something. He felt sick to his stomach.

Ron moved to his feet, pacing. _He’s nervous_ , Draco thinks, as he walks to the window, turns on his heel, and moves back to the chairs. He turns again, repeats his pace. He hesitates for a moment before he faces them. “Are we getting in too deep?” His voice shook as he spoke. “I mean, the thing said someone died. People are getting petrified.” Hermione stood to be next to him, but she didn’t reach out to him.

“We have to figure this out.”

Ron shook his head. “Why does it have to be us?” He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “My _little sister_ is here this year. She could be in danger. We could _all_ be in danger.”

“So, we should just do nothing?” Draco, finally able to find his voice, speaks and startles the three of them. “Nothing will get better if someone doesn’t step in. We know more than the others. We can do something about it.” Ron stared at him in disgust, and Draco was sickeningly reminded of the previous year, where Ron looked at him as nothing more than dirt on his nose.

“We’re _children_.”

“We’re _Gryffindors_.” Silence feel once again, and Draco cracked under the tension. Shoulders bent, he sat back down in his chair.

Risking a glance towards Harry, he saw a small smile on his face. _Don’t ruin the moment._ His chest felt tight, but he spoke anyways. “Is this how you always feel?” His smile fell, and Draco frowned. _He really couldn’t do or say anything right._

Harry looked at him, his eyebrows drawn together, and he rubbed at his face. He speaks slowly. “I…always feel like everyone relies on me, and if I don’t do something, I feel useless.” He doesn’t look at any of them when he speaks. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

And filled with a courage that he doesn’t normally have, Draco moved to Harry, and reached down. And Harry, with a defeat on his face that Draco wanted to smooth away, leaned into his touch as Draco held them. Out of his peripheral, he could see Hermione do the same for Ron, who taut at first soon melted into the embrace.

Draco, his face turning pink, allowed himself the moment of comfort that he knows both he and Harry need. His skin tingled at every point in which they touched. Harry sniffled, and leaned closer, and Draco closed his eyes. _This boy deserves this every day._

Hermione catches his gaze, a knowing look in her eyes, and Draco looks over where Harry has his head on his shoulder.

“We do this together.” Harry nods, but the tension pooling at the bottom of Draco’s stomach doesn’t dissolve. “Together, or not at all.”

Hermione’s voice filled the quiet room for the next several minutes as she detailed a plan. The three of them are to visit Hagrid while she searches the library from top to bottom. Any information found will be shared with one another, and then they can go from there. It isn’t a foolproof plan, but it is all they have.

… 

The trek to Hagrid’s cottage the following morning felt more like the walk to an execution, Draco thinks as he blinks past the pre-dawn sun. It’s early, too early for most students to be awake and wandering the castle grounds, and yet, the three boys make their way down the dewy and muddy path, their footsteps squishing into the quiet earth.

Harry moved forward, placing himself in front of both Ron and Draco, and lightly knocked on the door. A gruff bark rung out from the other side of the door, and the three of them fought the urge to flinch backwards when the wooden door shuffled open, Hagrid peering out from the crack in the wood.

“Bit early, innit?” Hagrid says, his voice but his tone soft. They all nodded, and Hagrid smiled, opening the door fully. “How about tea?”

The three settled in and sipped at their tea, none of them wanting to bring about the conversation in which they came to have. Hagrid moved about the cottage, sensing something on the tips of their tongues, and finally sat down on his own stool. He said nothing, simply reached out to Fang, waiting for one of them to speak. Draco bit the bullet.

“You used to be a student here, right?” He saw Ron and Harry stiffen beside him as Hagrid nodded.

“I was, and I can see where this’ll be going.” To their surprises, Hagrid didn’t look displeased at all; his gentle face open to questioning, despite the topic. “You think I opened the chamber.”

Draco nodded. Hagrid sighed. “Ask away.” Ron looked off to the window, Harry stared at his feet. Draco stepped into the role. It felt nice to play the leader for once.

“Did you open the chamber?” Hagrid laughed.

“No, and before yer next question, I don’t know who did. It was Riddle who was always trying to be the hero.”

“Riddle? Tom?” Harry perked up at the mention of his name, and Hagrid looked surprised and hesitated on his next words. “How-“ He closed his mouth and remained silent. Draco didn’t know how to proceed. Harry shifted next to him. Ron’s gaze lingered on the window sill. He muttered under his breath. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You know who he is, don’t you?” Draco smirked, the feeling of getting answers making him feel courageous. Hagrid was starting to squirm. “Hagrid, what’s in the chamber? Do you know?” He shook his head.

“They all thought I did it. They all thought I killed that girl. Poor girl, found in a bathroom of all places.” From next to him, Ron tapped on Harry’s shoulder, who shrugged him off. Hagrid sat uncomfortable, very much unlike the man who opened the door tothem. Ron tapped his shoulder again, and Harry turned fast to him, opening his mouth to question him when he saw Ron’s face. With a grimace, he looked to where Ron’s stare had not moved, and saw a line of spiders scurrying over the window sill, their fat bodies falling to the ground as they ran from an unseen presence.

“I can tell you this,” Hagrid began, and Draco could see that they would be getting nothing else from him today. They’ve accomplished little. He waited for him to continue. “The chamber isn’t safe. You three best leave this to the adults.”

“The adults aren’t doing anything,” Harry said, an anger to his voice, and Hagrid closed his eyes sadly.

“I know you four won’t stop, but I am going to ask you to.” Harry stood, and Draco returned to his usual role of follower. Ron stood beside Harry. Draco stood behind.

“We can’t just leave this be. People are getting hurt. And if the adults aren’t going to do anything about it, then we will.”

The three made their way out of the cottage, heading for the direction of the castle, Hagrid calling for caution behind them.

 

The feeling of dread only increased in their stomachs as they made the slippery climb, and once they reached the doorway to find Professor McGonagall looking more than frazzled did it finally make sense. With a click of her tongue and a twirl of her cloak, she hurried inside, the three boys following behind.

“Where are we going?” Ron called ahead, the professor’s long pace hard to match. 

“The Hospital Wing, Mr. Weasley.” He jogged ahead to meet her.

“Is it Ginny?” She shook her head no, and silence fell in the corridor, the only sound being their footfalls on the stone.

As they entered the hospital wing, chaos erupted around them, with Madame Pomfrey rushing to each bed, checking on their occupants. On numb legs, the boys walked past where Professor McGonagall paused at the threshold, a hand resting gently against her mouth, and on the furthest bed, a figure with a mirror in her hand and bushy hair caught in a frozen breeze, lay deathly still.

The other shoe dropped. Breath left his lungs as Draco stumbled forward, caught only by Harry, who wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Ron let out a broken sound, pressing his fists to his face as he stepped forward.

“ _Hermione_ …” he whimpered, and they came to rest at her bedside.

“We found her in the library with her mirror,” Professor McGonagall said, startlingly meek, and carefully moved the mirror from her hand to the side table. She brushed a hand over Hermione’s forehead, a mothering touch before she regained her composure and straightened. “I must get to Headmaster Dumbledore.” With a last lingering look to the group, she turns and strode out of the wing.

As a quietness descended upon the alcoves, and the reality of the situation began to settle between them all, Draco let his head fall forward, letting it rest upon his hands, and allowed himself to cry. They were no closer to finding any answers, and without Hermione, they stood no chance at succeeding.

…

The whole school felt as though it had inhaled and held its breath, afraid that an exhale would cause everything to wilt and fall away. The agitation was thick in the air, professors frequented the halls more than before, and any attempts to leave the common room after curfew were quickly thwarted.

Draco felt numb, a static sensation seeming to flow from his fingers to his toes.   

All other feelings, he thought, had been placed on the backburner. He could barely look at the two of them, Harry and Ron. Draco could see just how much Ron was struggling with the fact that their group was down one person, and he could see that Harry appeared more and more dejected with each passing day. His mind blank and empty, no answers made their way forward, leaving him useless. He couldn’t help the feeling that he was falling back into their usual habits. They needed a plan.

Harry was exhausted. He was tired of being expected to have answers, to make a plan, to save the school for a second year in a row. Look at where it had got him. Students were petrified. Hermione was petrified. Harry felt much older than he was – he was twelve years old. And he felt guilty. Harry Potter felt guilty for not being able to save everyone.

He carried the diary with him in his bag with him. When he had the chance to be alone, he would retrieve it from its hiding place, take his quill and ask it questions. Anything. He needed something. The diary no longer spoke to him.

… 

It’s on a solemn day, the castle quiet in fear of falling victim to whatever beast roamed about the grounds, that Draco finds himself stumbling back to the common room, his books heavy in his hands.

And back in the common room, the dam finally broke, Ron standing tentative while Harry desperately rummaged through his belongings in a wild state of mind.

“Harry! What’s going on?”

 

 

_Draco turns a corner, and collides hard with a young girl, her ginger hair covering her face. Draco_ _recognizes her immediately._

_“Ginny?”_

 

“The diary, Ron! I can’t find the diary.” Harry tosses piles of clothes behind him, Ron narrowly dodging a pair of pants that fly over his head. Ron stiffens and drops down to his knees beside him. 

“It’s gotta be here somewhere, yeah?” Harry is silent, his breathing heavy.

“It has to be.”

 

            _“Draco?” Ginny looks up at him, rubbing her elbow as he helps her back to her feet._

_“Where are you running off to? Classes are over for the day.” She’s shifty, nervous, and it is only now that Draco sees that she is carrying                  something in her freckled hands. “Ginny? What’s going on?”_

The room quickly devolved into a mess as the two boys destroyed the room. They cleared under the bed, cleaned through their trunks, shifted the beds away from the walls to see if it had fallen.

“What would Hermione do if she were here?”

“Probably use some spell even a seventh year wouldn’t know.” Harry gave a huff.

  

_The girl in front of him was very unlike the tenacious girl he had seen step up to his father, a feat he could rarely do these days. As                         good_ _as he was at pretending, his father instilled in him a fear that would not so easily release him. She was quivering now, and Draco                   continued to eye the book in her hands._

_“Is that-?” he took a step forward, “Where did you get that?” She looked down at herself and shoved the book away from her as if seeing it              for the first time. She let out a gasping sob._

“Harry. HARRY!” Ron had leaned back on his haunches, a sweat breaking out on his forehead. Harry continued to wrestle with his clothes in front of him before Ron finally placed a hand on his shoulder, stilling him. “Mate, it’s not here.”

“Then where could it be?” Ron shrugged, and Harry groaned aloud, raking his hands through his already rustled hair. The two boys sat back on the floor, staring at the clutter they’ve made in their dorm. “Ron?”

“Yeah?”

“We need Draco.”

Ron scoffed with an uncharacteristic disgust, and Harry frowned. “No, we need Hermione.”

 

_“I didn’t mean…I didn’t know…” she had begun muttering to herself, and as Draco leaned down to pick up the book, she lunged forward,               snatching it back into her grasp. “NO!” He jumped backward. Ginny looked up at him brokenly, tears wetting her face as she sobbed. “He               made me do it! I didn’t know!”_

_Draco stood there, frozen and unsure if comfort would help the situation, and he leaned in on himself, away from the crying girl. He took a            step back, and she look up wildly._

_“I can’t-“ she stepped towards him, and Draco felt much smaller than he was, “take it. Take it!” She shoved the book into his hands,                         knocking Draco off balance, sending him back against the stone wall. “I can’t do it!” She brushed her hair away from her face frantically,                 her eyes wide, and Draco was reminded of the look of a trapped animal with no way out and a predator in front of them. She looked feral.              This wasn’t who she was._

_She desperately took in a deep shuddering breath, and Draco could only imagine how it rattled her. With one last sad glance, she took off_ _in a run, leaving Draco alone and perplexed in the corridor. His heart thumping in his chest, he looked down at the leather-bound tome in              his hands, the glint of illuminated letters catching his eyes. Tom Marvolo Riddle._

… 

Pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall into place, and Draco could barely understand any of it.

With the diary in his hands, he felt as though he were a man possessed. The very act of holding it now felt as though it were alive, as though it were breathing. The diary no longer spoke to any of them, and yet Draco knew it had more to say.

Helpless, he began to move, his body slowly carrying him back to the common room, back to where Harry and Ron would no doubt be. He didn’t know what he would say to them, he did not know how they would all proceed, but with the three of them all together, something would happen. It had to.

And yet, a whispering at the back of his mind was getting louder, his hands seeming to burn at all the points the leather book touched him. _You’ll never get there in time._ Draco didn’t have enough energy to question this voice, did not have the energy to ask where it was coming from. So, it came as a shock to him when he finally gave out, his legs collapsing from under him, sending him sprawling on the floor, the diary still managing to stay in his hand. Draco reckoned that was more of the diary’s influence than his own.  

His body felt as though it were on fire, an insidious flame that started in his toes, and his throat closed, held tight by some imperceptible force. The diary in his hand remained silent, remained still, though it seemed to imprint within his skin an unclean feeling.

His vision white and blotted, his stomach gave way to a swooping feeling as though he were falling from a high height, and the white faded to black, his body inert, his eyes rolling backwards as the manifestation took full control of him, forcing him below.

…

The two boys ran through the halls, Harry practically sprinting. Curfew was coming fast, the halls would be swarmed with professors, and it would be just their luck to crash directly into Professor Snape. They needed to get to the Hospital Wing.

Harry resisted the urge to stop, his limbs burning as he exerted himself. Ron was saying something behind him – “we’ll find Draco later Harry, he’s probably at the library” – and he came to a screeching halt as they rounded the corner.

The Hospital Wing was more composed than it had been in the past couple of days. Several beds had been reserved for those who had been petrified, beds that, if the trio didn’t solve this mystery, would be permanently occupied. Harry felt a lump in the back of his throat.

Ron took the lead as they moved through the wing, striding confidently towards the last bed in the corner. Hermione laid, unmoving in her awkward position, her eyes wide in a scared, unchanging expression. Ron became grave as he approached her bed, leaning down to sit beside her. Harry stood at the foot of the bed.

“What are you expecting to find?” Harry exhaled, angry at himself for being frustrated. Ron didn’t speak for a long moment, and Harry saw that he had rested his hand over Hermione’s.

“Peace. An answer. I don’t know.” Ron ran his thumb over Hermione’s knuckles, and Harry wondered if it was for her comfort or his. When a crinkling sound echoes out, Ron paused. “What’s this?” 

Looking under her fingers, Ron pulled a piece of paper away, unfolding it to read. Harry moved next to him, leaning over his shoulders to read.

_Spiders flee before it_

_-through the pipes_

_snake_

_Basilisk_

Ron and Harry stared at the piece of paper in front of them, their eyes growing wide in disbelief. 

“This-“

“This is why she went to the library. She had a lead and she followed it.” Ron said, his tone one of admiration. “She figured it out. The creature in the chamber. It’s a basilisk.”

“That’s why I could hear it speak, all those nights ago. It’s a snake. It’s a _snake_.” Harry raked his eyes up and down the piece of paper.

“It travels through the pipes,” Ron noted, pointing to where Hermione had written it down in a quick handwriting.

“Remember what Hagrid said? About the girl who died in a _bathroom_?”

“Is the chamber in the bathroom?”                                                

“The one on the second floor. It’s abandoned. The diary said it was a forgotten place.” The two stared at each other for a moment as everything clicked into place. Harry broke out into a grin, and clapped Ron on the shoulder. “We can finish this. C’mon.” 

Without another word, the two of them jumped to their feet as a burst of voices rang out in the hallway. The voices sounded hurried, _professors_ , and footsteps ran past the opening to the corridor. Not a moment’s hesitation, Harry and Ron followed closely behind, concealing themselves behind columns. 

The group slowed, headed by Professor McGonagall, and it became clear as they arrived at the scene that something somber was happening.

“It’s taken a _student_. This is _unacceptable_.” Madame Pomfrey stood beside Professor McGonagall, her hand covering her mouth. 

“Who has it taken Minerva?”

Harry’s eyes roamed up the wall, and before he set his eyes upon the words, he knew who had been kidnapped. He felt his legs shake, and he fell to his knees. _I failed him._ He heard Ron gasp beside him.

_“His skeleton will like in the chamber forever.”_

“ _Draco_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment, let me know what you think!
> 
> I have a patreon and any support helps me to make content!  
> https://www.patreon.com/isaiahkeaton
> 
> Thank you!  
> isaiah


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “For Hermione.”
> 
> “And for Draco.”
> 
> And the two of them jumped forward."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO
> 
> this is taking quite a lot out of me. I was hoping to finish this whole series before the end of the year, but I am not sure if that is possible. I have year three planned, this will continue, but I am graduating and transferring to a new college soon, so life is incredibly hectic. Thank you so much for sticking with me. I intend to finish this series. 
> 
> Thank you,   
> isaiah

As he laid on the cold wet stone of whatever chamber he had been taken to, he vowed to himself that this vulnerability, this weakness that allowed him to be so easily taken, would no longer be expressed. He thought this in a far-off manner, not entirely himself. He was not standing over himself, not able to see his own body, his vision framed with a blackness he could not blink away. He was a statue in his own body.

Look at where his weakness had gotten him. Look at where his feelings took him. Look at what curiosity was about to kill. _Look at him._

He felt alone in his body, his vessel shared with only his own consciousness, but even that was slowly seeping away as though he had sprung a leak. 

_I promise myself,_ he thought, _I promise myself that if I ever get out of this, they will never be able to drag me into their schemes again._ If he could, he would smirk. The selfishness in the thought made him feel pleased, and he didn’t allow himself the energy to be frightened by what he was becoming.

His body was cold, his vision still the unnatural nothingness. He had the definitive feeling that there was something around him, something _slithering_ by on the edge of his decreasing consciousness. He had found what they were all looking for, and he could do nothing about it. _What kind of soldier are you?_

And from somewhere behind him, a voice answered. “What kind of solider indeed?”

 …

“Bloody hell,” Ron exhaled, a stuttering to his voice that nearly sent Harry into a panic. If Ron couldn’t keep himself together in the face of something so drastic, then Harry was going to collapse.

_Not Draco too._

The two of them pushed themselves away from the column, away from the writing on the wall, away, away, away. Harry screwed his eyes closed, his breaths coming out in rapid bursts. He was lightheaded.

“What are we going to do?” he managed, startling slightly when Ron put an arm around his shoulder, allowing him to balance. Ron stayed silent for a moment, and the nauseous feeling in his stomach was increasing with every passing second they weren’t doing something.

“Listen to me,” he heard Ron say, his voice distant, and Harry tried, “we have all the information. We know what is going on!” Harry lifted himself off Ron’s shoulder, surprised when he found he could stand. He nodded slowly.

“We know where the chamber is.”

“In the girl’s bathroom.”

“Then we go to the chamber. Now.”

“By ourselves?” Ron’s words caught him off guard. Harry was ready to go barreling through, no through in his head telling him to stop. Hermione was gone. Draco was gone. He had to do something or he might shake away. “As much as I want them back, we hardly stand a chance against a basilisk.” Harry nodded, saddened, before a thought struck him.

“We need a teacher,” he began reluctantly, “one with experience in adventuring.”

“You don’t mean…”

Lockhart. Harry smiled as he echoed Draco’s words from months ago, “We’re gonna need hat bastard if we want to have any chance.”

 

And it was there that Ron and Harry found Gilderoy Lockhart, fighter of banshees and werewolves and ghouls, furiously packing his cases in an attempt to escape. And it took a surprisingly easy and short conversation to convince him to help. It was here that they found themselves alone in the girl’s bathroom, Harry and Ron checking every faucet and stall for some sort of entrance to the chamber.

“Are you sure it’s here?” Harry called to Ron, a sense of panic stuck in his throat.  Lockhart stared on in confusion and suspicion, not even daring to boast. 

“Where else would it be?” He saw Ron shrug and he huffed. He ducked his head, his gaze falling to the plumbing under the sink when a discrete glint of silver amongst aluminum caught his eye. He rose slowly and stared forward at the distinct shape of a snake engraved into the faucet. “Ron?”

The two boys stood facing the circular form of the sinks, finding the entrance but unsure of how to progress. Harry was almost tempted to turn to Lockhart for help when Ron spoke beside him. 

“Parseltongue, Harry. It’s a snake.”

Harry stepped forward, words foreign to him flowing from his lips in an unusually confident manner and before him, the stone began to quiver and part, twisting to reveal a passage leading downwards. Harry leaned forward to see how far it went below, but the darkness swallowed up any sense of depth. Behind them, Lockhart gasped, and he took a step backwards.

“I see no need for my presence as you t-two clever boys have already solved it,” he managed, attempting to straighten his shoulders and put on his glamour of adventure. He took another step backwards before Ron pulled his wand from his robes, uncharacteristically stoic.

“You first.” Lockhart blanched.

“Me? Why me?”

“Better you than us,” Ron stated, and Harry shivered but nevertheless copied the air Ron was giving off. Lockhart huffed, chin up as he stared towards the passage, wand in hand. He was breathing heavily, obviously nervous, and Harry knew he would not follow them. 

“Now boys, what good would this do?” Lockhart began before Harry pushed the tip of his wand into Lockhart’s back. Losing his footing, Lockhart fell forward, his shout echoing upwards as he descended into the passage and landed with a subtle thud. “You know, it is quite dirty down here.”

Ron shook his head in exasperation, the two of them stowing their wands back inside their robes and stepped to the edge of the passage. With a look to each other, gaining confidence, they nodded.

“For Hermione.”

“And for Draco.”

And the two of them jumped forward.

… 

_I promise myself. I promise myself._

Far in the distance, Draco felt something change. A new presence entered the chamber, and he could not tell if the presence was good or bad. His body remained unmoving. Against whatever his mind wanted him to do, he could not move. He wanted to scream but even his throat would not allow it.

It was slowly however, that his vision blotted and came back into focus. He could see his surroundings for the first time, get his bearings to the best of his abilities. The large cavern was carved out of stonework from what he could see from his position on the floor. His eyes, unblinking, dry, notes a figure in the distance.

_They won’t be able to make me fight anymore._

He was overcome with exhaustion, despite remaining paralyzed on the floor. His mind was retreating inward on itself. With a pang of anxiety, Draco wondered if this was what death felt like: cold, merciless, and quiet. He thinks to himself that perhaps this is where he was always meant to end up.

 

 

The cavern was split, rocks having crumbled from the large walls of the tunnel, Ron and Harry separated at the mouth of the split. 

“Stay here, try to move some rocks if you can. I-“ Harry’s breath halted in his chest. “I’ll find him.”

Harry stood on one side, Ron on the other, and with heavy footsteps, he continued on alone His footsteps echoed loudly in his ears as he moved slowly through the cavern. A loneliness overcame him, so suddenly that it almost sent him stumbling. The previous year, it had all been so easy, so innocent. No one was hurt. Any danger was easy to be extricated from.

And yet. And yet.

Hermione was gone, best and brightest of her year. She didn’t deserve any of this. And Draco.

A pang in Harry’s chest threatened to choke him, and he pushed away any thoughts, thoughts for another time. _Why do you care so much about this boy?_ He inhaled a shaky breath.

As he continued to walk, the chamber widened and grew in height, and if he were not so frightened, he might have been able to find it within himself to be somewhat appreciative. Instead, he felt so small, much smaller than he had in a while. He was only twelve. He should not feel this way. Whoever allowed any of this to happen to them deserve to rot away in this chamber, not Draco.

Gradually, the chamber before him opened outward, stone snake-like structures carved along the walls, a single hallway length in front of him to where a monumental cavern opened. Harry braced himself, his breaths coming fast, and increased his pace. He skidded however, as an unmoving figure laid on the floor. Draco. And he started running. He didn’t care how slippery the floor was, how far away, how still he appeared. Harry ran to Draco with the fervor of a man drowning.

He collapsed in front of him, distraught, and he couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes as Draco’s stared back, a film over them that made them appear milky. Harry reached out to his chest, just barely find a rise and fall. He exhaled a quiet sob.

“He won’t wake.” The voice, while almost deathly quiet in the large chamber sent goosebumps to rise on his arms. He turned, wildly, wiping at his face.

“What d’you mean, he won’t wake?” Harry said desperately. “He’s not – he’s not -?" 

“He’s still alive,” he said, “But only just.” The figure’s calm demeanor as it strode forward set Harry on edge, and he felt the urge to run, but he stood still. A young man fully came into few, looking only a few years older than Harry himself, wearing robes. Harry did not recognize the boy. “I cannot promise he will continue to be within the next few minutes.”

The boy came to stand across from him, barely a few feet away, and Harry noted the sharpness of his face. The boy in front of him was handsome, a darkness to his eyes that Harry found somewhat intoxicating. He took a step back. “Who are you?”

“A memory,” the boy stated, matter-of-factly, and Harry almost scoffed. “We’ve spoken before.” He turned to look along the stone floor, a diary lying several feet away. “For the Boy Who Lived, you certainly are not quite intelligent.” He said the moniker with a raised lip, as if even muttering the words made him feel disdain. Harry looked at him for a moment.

“Are you Tom?” he said quietly, and the boy turned to him with a smirk, but not at all the kind that used to make him smile. There was an insidiousness behind his very posture. “Are you Tom Riddle?”

The boy in front of him grinned wide at him, showing white teeth through his pursed lips. He folded his hands behind his back, and Harry wanted to remark that _that_ is what a soldier looked like. 

He turned back to Draco’s crumpled form. “Can you help Tom? There’s a basilisk…I don’t know where but it’s somewhere here – we have to get Draco out of here…” 

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s shoulders, managing to get him upright, and he sent his wand skittering across the floor. Tom remained motionless as he watched the situation unfold in front of him.

“It won’t come unless it’s called.”

Harry turned to him, quickly getting frustrated. He held Draco tight to his side, and stared as he found Tom twirling his wand in his hands.

“What do you _mean_?” Harry asked, but sighed heavily. “Give me my wand Tom, I’m gonna need it-“

Tom continued to bare his teeth in a smile. “You won’t be needing it.” Harry fought the urge to groan. 

“We don’t have time for this!” Tom’s veneer began to crack as he expression fell.

“I have waited for a long time for this! We are going to talk!” Tom held tight to Harry’s wand, and Harry felt remarkably small. 

“I don’t understand.”

“Your dear Ginny has told me all about you, Harry Potter,” Tom began, moving to grab the diary, reciting before he even opened it. “ _Tom, I think I’m losing my memory. Tom,_ _Percy keeps telling me I’m pale and I’m not myself. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I’m the one attacking everyone, Tom_!’”

Harry began to understand. “Ginny wouldn’t-“  
  
“Ginny would do whatever I asked her to,” Tom sneered, finally looking towards the slumped figure in his arms. “And yet, she couldn’t handle it. She gave it to _him_.” With wide eyes, Harry stared down at Draco, afraid, and held him closer. He remained motionless. Harry was starting to sweat. “I didn't need the girl. I don't need _him_.” Tom took a step towards them. “Through all the schemes, through Ginny, through Hagrid, through Dumbledore, I have been looking for you.”

Harry blanched, could feel the blood leaving his face. “Me?”

Tom nodded. “I needed to meet the boy who lived, needed to meet the boy who beat the Dark Lord, as nothing more than a _baby_ , and left with a simple _scar_.”

Harry paused, the weight of holding Draco dragging him to the floor. He fell to his knees, staring forward at the boy in front of him. “Voldemort – he killed…he killed my parents. He was _after_ your time. I don’t _understand_.”

Tom seethed in front of him, gripping Harry’s wand tight in his hand. He turned away from him, shoulders ridged and raised his wand. A shimmering of letters appeared from the end of the wand as his wrote, a name that Harry was now familiar with hanging in the air.

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

And with a flourish of his arms and a flick of the wand, the letters changed, moving to form something else-

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.

Tom moved to stand in front of Harry, within the blink of an eye, and Harry jumped backwards, his face flushed, his body tingling, for once, his mind going silent.

“ _You_.”

**Author's Note:**

> any feedback, comments, or kudos is appreciated!
> 
> thanks,  
> isaiah
> 
>  i now have a patreon! if you would like to support my work, find me on: https://www.patreon.com/user?u=9636016&utm_medium=social&utm_source=twitter&utm_campaign=creatorshare2
> 
> find me  
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> tumblr: ohohpierre


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